


And the Currents Collide

by SemperIntrepida



Series: Elegiad [16]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Playthrough, F/F, a slight divergence from canon but we'll get to the same place in the end, fixing a canon cutscene because i am greedy and want more, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperIntrepida/pseuds/SemperIntrepida
Summary: In which Kassandra waits for Kyra to choose between her and Thaletas, but all Kyra seems to want is for Kassandra to join her on a hunt.
Relationships: Kassandra/Kyra (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Elegiad [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1531004
Comments: 19
Kudos: 125





	And the Currents Collide

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is part of a linked series of stories, and while you don't have to read them all, they do combine into a unified narrative.

On the first day after Kyra asked for time alone, Kassandra took the Adrestia and sailed to Siros, just because it wasn't Mykonos, and they'd dropped anchor in the deep, still waters of a lonely cove, surrounded by sheer rock walls. She spent the evening on the deck, staring at the stars and listening to the sailors on the watch laugh and tell stories late into the night, and every so often, a boulder would break free from the upper reaches of the cliffs and come crashing down into the depths.

On the second day after Kyra asked for time alone, Siros became Tinos, one Silver Island interchangeable for another, like drachmae scattered across a table of blue waves. That night, she went into the city, found herself a kapeleion, and ended up with two women in her lap and no place to put them, for neither of them moved like Kyra did, or spoke like Kyra did, or felt like Kyra did. They were soft and pliant where her hands longed for slim, taut muscle, and instead of her belly gathering heat it sat as inert as a lump of half-formed clay.

On the third day after Kyra asked for time alone, Kassandra stood at the Adrestia's helm and watched Mykonos grow from a dark blot on the horizon while the setting sun lit the waters around her ablaze with orange. The deck swayed, ill-tempered beneath her feet, and she told herself she was a fool for letting this happen, for becoming so vulnerable, for wasting so much time.

"And the currents collide," Barnabas said quietly from over her shoulder. "Two of them, sweeping in from east and west. It'll be a bumpy ride all the way to the dock."

The stone cliffs of northern Mykonos shone in the sunlight like a golden fortress, guarded by the skeletal fingers of wrecked ships reaching up from the waves. The Adrestia's course would take them right to the threshold of that rocky graveyard, and Barnabas would have to thread the ship through dangerous rocks and erratic waves on the way to the old dock outside the Spartan camp.

"Hang on! We're coming 'round!" Barnabas called out, and Kassandra clamped her arm around the nearest rail just before the ship turned hard to port and the deck tilted precariously under her feet.

The ship righted itself, pulled along by a current fast and strong, Poseidon's hidden hand threatening to drag them past the dock and back towards open waters. Then, Barnabas gave a shout, and the crew moved as one, digging their oars into the water so the ship turned sharply to the starboard side, the deck rolling hard enough to push her up against the rail. The aft of the ship swung around like a hammer blow, and then they sat outside the current, in calmer waters easily navigated by oars.

"Hot _damn_ that was a fine piece of sailing!" Gelon shouted from the foredeck as the Adrestia's hull nudged up against the rope-wound pilings of the dock.

Kassandra climbed down the steps from the helm and helped the crew maneuver the gangplank out onto the dock, where a Spartan soldier who wasn't Thaletas was waiting to meet her.

The soldier turned out to be Thaletas's lieutenant. "Greetings, Eagle Bearer," he said. "Smooth sailing, I hope?"

"Close enough."

"There's someone here waiting to see you."

She hoped it wasn't Kyra. "Thaletas?" she asked.

"No, he's gone to visit the rebels."

Now she wished it _was_ Kyra, so her hope could cling to separated geographies. She gritted her teeth and focused on the soldier standing before her, noting how battered his helm was, and how its nosepiece was bent away from true. It kept her from thinking about Kyra and Thaletas together in the same place.

He gestured towards a man on the beach behind him. "One of Kyra's lieutenants. He's been waiting here all afternoon."

She instantly recognized the man's muscled bulk as he strode across the beach on his way to meet her. Praxos.

They met on the sand at the end of the dock. She nodded a greeting and said, "What brings you all the way out here, Praxos?"

"Misthios. You and Kyra seem to have made me your messenger, much to the surprise of Hermes." He seemed more amused than irritated. "Kyra says to tell you Podarkes offered up a temporary truce, and that she's chosen to accept it."

Kassandra tried not to let her surprise leak into her voice. "A truce?"

"Aye, and not all of us are happy with it. We thought we had him cornered."

"We still do. This is only delaying the inevitable."

"Hope you're right. It's only for seven days, is all."

Why would Kyra do this? Maybe the evidence Kassandra had given her had rattled her more than she'd shown. Could it have rattled her into showing a truer set of colors?

"There's more, misthios."

Kassandra made a _go on_ gesture.

"She says she's going hunting tomorrow. Wants you with her."

"Hunting."

"Our stocks are low. We usually rotate the hunting amongst ourselves, but Kyra volunteered to take the turn this time."

Hunting. While Podarkes still breathed. "Did she say where I should meet her?"

"At the Altar of Artemis at sunrise."

"I'll be there."

A truce and a hunt. Neither made much sense, but it wasn't like she'd been around to witness those decisions being made. Whatever Kyra's reasons were, she'd likely find them out tomorrow.

"Will you be staying here in camp tonight, Praxos?" she asked.

"No, misthios. I need to get to the city."

The city? "Safe travels, then."

"Safer now, if the Athenians keep their word. If not, there's always this." He pointed to the enormous mace slung across his back.

She returned to the Adrestia just in time to see the sun set, and she crossed the deck, braced her forearms against the rail, and spent a long time watching the sun drag the colors out of the sky.

Morning was a long way away.

.oOo.

Kassandra arrived at the Altar of Artemis under night-shrouded skies that had just begun to soften with the pale light of dissolving stars. The altar belonged to a small shrine, whose graceful columns glimmered in the darkness, lit by oil lamps long burned low. Any other time it would have felt like a sanctuary. But now, she shivered, more from apprehension than the chill in the air or the dew soaking her feet. On the other side of the shrine, a figure knelt before the altar, head bowed in prayer. Kassandra's stomach twisted. Even from here, she knew who it was.

Kyra's voice hit her as she walked between the shrine's columns. "Keen-eyed Artemis, guide my bow, and I pray to you with all my heart that Kassandra doesn't scare off the animals with her heavy footsteps." Her voice had gotten louder over the last several words, with a particular emphasis on _heavy footsteps_.

Despite herself, Kassandra smiled. "I thought I was being quiet."

Kyra stood up from the altar and turned around. She was dressed in an old chiton, with a long length of roughspun linen and a few loops of rope wrapped across her body. Her bow and quiver were slung over her shoulder and a dagger hung from the belt at her waist. "If that was you being quiet, we'll have nothing but trampled grass to eat for dinner."

"I don't need to pray to the gods to hit my targets."

"They've been known to disguise themselves as animals. I just like to warn them I'm coming. Because when I take aim at something, I don't miss."

"Sounds like a challenge," Kassandra said. It was irresistible, sparring this way with Kyra. It nearly made her forget the question that hung over them both.

Kyra looked her over in the lamplight. "Do you usually wear armor to a hunt?"

"You didn't say _what_ we'd be hunting." So Kassandra had prepared for both human and animal quarry, donning her armor, slinging a bow and quiver onto her back along with her spear but leaving her sword behind.

"Ibex. And we're not going to catch any by standing and chatting," she said, stepping lightly up the path back towards the shrine.

Kassandra caught her by the arm as she passed. "Wait."

A dark eyebrow arched over eyes that looked at her expectantly.

Kassandra wasn't Kyra; she couldn't pretend things were fine between them while waiting for an answer, especially not when her stomach was already gnawing itself raw. If there was bad news to be had, best get it over with now. "What did you decide?"

Kyra paused, then said, "I decided that I want us to go hunting."

Kassandra blew out a quick, frustrated breath. "Is this some kind of test?"

"If you want to consider it that way you can," Kyra said, her eyes drifting down to Kassandra's hand on her arm. Then her voice softened. "But I'd rather think of it as getting to spend some time with you."

The sudden spark in her chest was hope, Kassandra knew, but she didn't dare try to light a fire with it. All she could do was let the glowing ember keep the cold at bay long enough for her to see what would happen next. She released Kyra's arm, and gestured for her to take the lead.

They started out on the road, the sky brightening above them while the trees and bushes shed the meddling of human hands and grew wilder with every step away from the city, and once they reached the forest proper, Kyra led her under the canopy of trees and into another world, hushed and hazy and dreamlike, caught between slumber and awakening. It made Kassandra stop to take it all in: the muted greys of a forest without sunlight, the rising hum of insects warming up their wings, the damp air clinging to her skin.

Kyra stopped and looked back at her, grinning once she realized what Kassandra was doing. "Dawn's mysterious beauty," she said.

"In all I see before me."

A flush darkened Kyra's skin. "Can you shoot arrows as well as you throw out compliments?"

"You'll see soon enough, once you show me where the ibex are. I know the hunting grounds on Kephallonia as well as my own skin, but this island remains a mystery," Kassandra said. She chose her next words carefully, curious to see what reaction they'd provoke. "In this I must... defer to your expertise."

Kyra's chin lifted, as if catching an interesting scent. "As well you should," she said, lips curving into an enigmatic smile before she turned away. "The game trail we'll follow is just up ahead."

The trees were older in this part of the forest, big pines that had to stretch high to reach the sun, and once there, greedily stole most of the light for themselves. The underbrush wasn't as thick, and the game trail was wide and easily traveled.

"There's a spot down here where I used to hunt as a young girl," Kyra said. "It was hunt or starve in those days."

"Same for me. Started out catching and cooking rodents."

Kyra laughed, a short, amused _ha_ that could only come from someone who'd tasted that gamy, desperate meat. "They do make a good soup. Hunger's an excellent spice."

"It is."

They walked the trail until the trees opened up into a meadow, where a stream ran down from the mossy green slopes skirting the rocky bluffs above. Mist hung over the stream and meadowgrass, while the clouds on the horizon glowed with pinks and oranges, like pigments smeared by the hands of giants.

Kyra stopped and knelt at the edge of the meadow, within the shadow of the trees. "There's a herd that sometimes stops here for a drink in the mornings," she whispered. "We'll wait and see."

This must have been how Kyra had come by the vast reserves of patience she could summon at will: by waiting for her quarry to present her with a chance to strike, the experience of countless hunts where failure meant going hungry. Kassandra had seen Kyra wait before — at the weapons cache on Delos, and in Barnabas's olive grove, where Kassandra had been the one to crack under that first, heavy silence. She wondered how Kyra did it, how she could sit there utterly still, in the world, yet outside of time. And she wondered what thoughts drifted behind those focused eyes.

It was hard enough to have patience, and harder still to be so close to Kyra, kneeling in the currents of her breath and aching with the scent of her hair. Kassandra's senses pointed at Kyra of their own volition, her ears and nose already lost causes, her eyes valiantly trying not to sneak glances, her skin and tongue — oh gods, it was hard not to wonder what Kyra's skin tasted like. She clenched her fists and took a breath, deep and slow. Kyra's eyes remained intent on watching the clearing, and Kassandra was glad one of them was paying attention to the hunt because an ibex could have danced in front of her and she likely wouldn't have noticed.

After the mist had burned away, and the first rays of sunlight began to shine over the shoulder of the bluff, Kyra shook her head and sighed. "We'll have to climb to the herd," she said.

The trek took hours, Kyra guiding her on a roundabout path that kept them downwind of the herd's favored grazing spots, but eventually they climbed to where the grass gave way to rocks, where the ibex's surefooted agility let them move up and down the dizzying precipices with ease — daring predators to follow.

"There," Kyra whispered, pointing to an outcropping high above. Ibex, grey as the stone around them. The long, ridged horns sweeping over their backs made them look perpetually in motion, as if they were always about to take a leap.

The herd was larger than she'd expected, close to two dozen males, females, and young. The males were scattered across the highest parts of the bluff, while the females stood guard and the kids scampered within the protective circle in between.

Kyra turned to her, speaking so quietly Kassandra had to strain to hear her though they crouched shoulder to shoulder. "Which would you choose?"

This question _was_ a test. She studied the herd. The males were outside of bowshot and it would be difficult to move into their range without spooking the rest of the herd. A female, then. One without young. "That line of them in front. Third from the right."

"The older female?"

Kassandra nodded.

Kyra grinned and patted her knee. "Don't miss."

She readied her bow and checked the wind and angles. It would be a tricky shot now, with a tiny margin of error. Or, she could wait for a better one, but it would take patience. She smiled at that.

Kyra was watching her. This was, of course, part of the test. _If you want to consider it that way, you can._ But now she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd misjudged what this test was actually about. Not about putting an arrow into an ibex's heart, or saying all the right things. Something else.

She probably should have been nervous, knowing she was being judged on something she couldn't prepare for, or at least as distracted as she was in the clearing, now that Kyra was so close she was practically looking over Kassandra's shoulder. But her hands were steady as she lifted her bow and nocked an arrow; and her breath was steady as she waited patiently for the ibex to turn at the angle she wanted; and her heartbeat was steady when it finally did turn, and she drew back the bowstring, took aim, and shot.

It wasn't perfect — the ibex took a handful of steps before collapsing onto its knees — but it was close enough that the rebels would eat, and eat well, as long as she dealt with the carcass before the meat went bad.

"It's going to get warm soon," Kassandra said. The sun was already shining on the slopes below them.

Kyra nodded. "We'll have to quarter it now before bone sour sets in." She glanced at Kassandra. "Do you want to, or shall I?"

"I've a feeling I'd learn a thing or two if you did it." True enough, but she also wanted to see Kyra handle a knife in a way that didn't involve throwing it.

Kyra grasped the ibex by the base of its horns, dragging it around so it lay on its back with its head pointed uphill. Then she drew her blade and went to work.

The first cut revealed that Kyra was competent at dressing a kill, but it was the second cut that proved her an expert, as her blade sliced the ibex open from genitals to ribcage with impressive speed, but precise enough to slide past entrails and organs without nicking them open. She cut away the skin, then split the carcass into four parts, exposing the meat to cooler air.

She unwound the length of roughspun from across her shoulders. It turned out to be five separate pieces of fabric: four pieces for the quarters, and the fifth piece holding the backstrap and all the meat she could salvage near the neck and spine. Soon there was nothing left of the carcass except a few bones and guts, and even those would be food for scavengers.

"It's no surprise Artemis favors you," Kassandra said quietly, mindful of the old edicts that guided Kyra's hands: take only what you need, be grateful for the sacrifice, and let nothing go to waste. Kyra said nothing, focused as she was on tying the fabric into place around each quarter, but a faint smile crossed her lips.

"There," Kyra said when she was finished, wiping her bloody hands on a scrap of cloth as she surveyed the bundled quarters. "That's going to be a load."

"I'll carry it," Kassandra offered.

"Absolutely not. It weighs as much as Praxos."

"It's not quite _that_ heavy." Closer to a regular man than Kyra's giant lieutenant. Nothing she couldn't handle. She started taking off her bow and quiver.

Kyra wordlessly accepted Kassandra's gear before holding out a length of rope and her blade in return. Kassandra sliced at the legs sticking out from each quarter and threaded the rope through the cuts between tendon and bone. Then she used the rope to tie it all together into one massive bundle she could lift and sling over her shoulder.

Kyra reacted to Kassandra's feat of strength by laughing to herself and shaking her head. "Heavy things," she said. "I guess I _am_ paying you." She stepped in close, close enough for her arm to brush Kassandra's elbow, and pointed across the slope. "See that dark line running downhill? It's an easy path back down to the forest from there."

Traversing the slope around the bluff took effort and concentration, and neither of them spoke while they searched for safe footing across the mossy rocks and loose stones. They crossed over cliffs, grassy patches covered in flowers, and one slope above a dizzying drop where Kassandra had to kick steps into the sod and hope they'd hold her weight plus that of the ibex she carried.

Eventually, they reached the forest at the bottom of the bluff, and by the time they arrived at the entrance to the hideout, it was long past midday and Kyra still hadn't told Kassandra what she'd decided.

Kassandra set the ibex on the ground and worked her arm and shoulder in a circle, stretching out cramped muscles while Kyra watched her silently. Their eyes met, and Kassandra's stomach twisted tighter, her skin prickling as if it no longer fit her. She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, "I guess that's it, then." It wasn't what she wanted to say at all.

Kyra crossed her arms.

"You probably have important matters to attend to."

More silence, but Kyra now wore an expression of amused patience.

"I should get back to my ship."

"Do you really mean to be rid of me so quickly?"

"I don't know what you want from me!" The words snapped out of her like a rope stretched past its breaking point.

"What I want from you," Kyra repeated.

Kassandra steeled herself against rejection, imagining the ways Kyra could cut her open with a few words, knowing that the current of her feelings ran deeper than simply wanting a tumble in bed. Gods, it would have been so much easier if _that_ was all she wanted, where a _no_ could be met with a smile, and a goodbye, and the knowledge that there were plenty of other women in Greece.

"What I want is for you to relax," Kyra said, giving her an exasperated look. "Do you honestly think I'd be doing all this if my answer was _no_?"

"I don't know! You won't tell me what you want. I'm beginning to think you're playing with me."

Kyra sighed. "For all your claims otherwise, there are some things about you that are very, very Spartan."

Kassandra was about to ask her what she meant by that, but Kyra held up a hand.

"I'm sorry I abused your patience, and I didn't mean to make you feel like I was playing with you." She was thoughtful for several moments. "Would it help you to know that we'll be drinking our wine later?"

The Pramnian wine Kassandra had found on Delos? She'd forgotten all about it. "We will?"

"We will, if you want." She looked so pleased with herself Kassandra suspected that wasn't the only thing she had planned. "There's a hunter's hut near the ruins by the beach. It'd be quiet — and we'd be alone."

Alone. The thought of it left Kassandra breathless, and her stomach unknotted for the first time in days. The two of them. Alone.

"What do you say?" Kyra asked.

Kassandra smiled. "I'm all yours."

Kyra's smile matched her own. "Good. Now, if you don't mind picking up that ibex again, you can bring it inside while I find someone to take care of it. And then we can get cleaned up, because you and I look..." Her eyes flicked between them. She didn't need to say they were covered in gore.

Kassandra crouched down and hefted the ibex up onto her shoulder before she stood up, and she enjoyed the feeling of her muscles bunching and pulling tight, her strength being put to work.

"Show off," Kyra said with a grin. She beckoned for Kassandra to follow. "I can't wait to see Praxos's face when you hand over that ibex."

.oOo.

A stream flowed through the deepest reaches of the cave the rebels had made into their hideout, and like all water this close to the underworld, it was crystal clear and shockingly cold — good motivation for a quick bath. Kassandra finished scrubbing blood off her shins and bit back a gasp as she sluiced clean water over her legs. She was already shivering.

She grabbed a linen towel from a nearby boulder and dried herself vigorously, drumming her sluggish blood awake again, and the snap of moving fabric wafted the scent of the soap Kyra had given her up from her skin: laurel. She closed her eyes and breathed in, just as she had when she first recognized the scent at the beginning of her bath. She smelled like Kyra now, and it was going to drive her mad.

She wrung her hair dry as best she could, then wrapped the linen around herself and walked out from the bathing nook and into the larger chamber.

Kyra chose that moment to enter the room. She was still wearing her old chiton, but a towel was slung over her shoulder. "The ibex is as good as dinner, and your tunic is nearly dry," she said. "I'm not sure I got all the blood off your armor, but it'll only make you more intimidating."

"It never worked on you."

"You weren't trying with me." Her eyes wandered over Kassandra, lingering on Kassandra's throat and collarbones, and she twisted a finger around one of the damp ringlets in Kassandra's hair. "You look good like this."

"Oh?"

"Don't _oh_ me, and don't distract me from my bath." She flashed a rakish grin. "Your gear's in my chamber. Wait there and think about all the things you want to do with me later." Then she patted Kassandra on the cheek before she departed, leaving sparks in her wake.

The ember Kassandra had been carrying since dawn ignited, deep in her belly, and all the desires she had denied since her first night in Mykonos came in from the cold and gathered around the flames. A single evening wasn't enough for _all_ the things she wanted to do to Kyra, but she could cross a few off the list.

And she certainly wasn't shivering anymore.

A short while later, she was seated at the table in Kyra's chamber, damp in some places more than others. She wore her newly cleaned tunic and armor, and an empty plate of what had once been bread, olives, and cheese lay off to one side. The food had done little to ease her hunger, and she was feasting on the mental image of a naked Kyra writhing with pleasure in her lap when the actual Kyra returned from her bath, dressed in a clean chiton, fizzing with the energy of the freshly scrubbed.

"I need to get out into the sunshine. That water is—" She stopped short and peered at Kassandra. "Where were you just now?"

Kassandra smirked. "A place I think you'd enjoy a great deal."

"Then it better be in your plans." She looked around the room. "Need anything else before we leave? No? Then let's go. I'm freezing."

Kassandra didn't need to be told twice.

.oOo.

The walk to the ruins was more of a stroll, as Kyra led her through grasslands and trees on a route well away from any roads. Above them, the sky was bright and endless, and Kyra basked in the sunshine at every opportunity. She seemed freer, more relaxed, inhabiting a middle ground between stillness and intensity that Kassandra hadn't seen until now.

And she told stories: about mercenaries who'd come to visit Mykonos, about wild hunts and run-ins with Athenians, including one tale of how, as a youth, she'd stolen Podarkes's favorite horse, sold it, and shipped it off the island before he'd even noticed it was missing. She spoke with her hands, in graceful gestures, and in another life she could have been a poet, spinning tales to an enraptured audience.

Her audience now may have been smaller, but no less captivated.

Kassandra knew Kyra was telling these stories for a reason, and when Kyra stopped speaking and looked at her with an expectant grin, she was ready with a story of her own, one that began with the line "I was a god, once," and ended with her reenacting her booming commandment to the poor basketweaver from Sami: "Now, go home and wait for fate to intervene!"

Kyra's laugh was rich and limber, and it lingered in Kassandra's ears and made her want to keep hearing it. "'Wait for fate to intervene' — that's a stretch, coming from you. So what did you end up doing?"

"Oh, I followed her back to her home, saw her baskets, and her broken wagon, and her four hungry children outside... So I snuck in and put the bandits' loot on top of her bed."

"A miracle. And I can't even fault her for falling for your terrible acting," Kyra said. "I know how it feels to have your prayers suddenly answered." She took Kassandra's hand and pulled her along. "We're almost to the ruins, and I can hear the sea saying hello."

Kyra led her through a small stand of palms that grew along the beach, to where the ruins lay in solemn silence, the dark, weather-worn stones spilling out from beneath the trees onto the sand. Someone had built a simple hut from the remaining walls, filling the gaps with salvaged stone and orienting the doorway so it opened to the sea.

Kyra squeezed her hand. "Wait here," she said, and she ducked into the hut, coming out a few moments later carrying a blanket, a krater of wine, and a battered bronze cup. She spread the blanket out a few steps away from the door, then sank down upon it and motioned for Kassandra to sit beside her.

Kassandra leaned back against the wall and watched the waves curling onto themselves while Kyra poured the wine, and when Kyra offered her the cup she made a _you first_ motion.

Kyra's eyes widened as she took a sip. "That's _amazing_ ," she said.

She was right — the wine was excellent. Sweet, but not cloying, with enough heft to it that the taste lingered on the tongue. They traded drinks until the cup was empty, then started in on another, Kyra stretching out on the blanket to make herself comfortable, while Kassandra enjoyed the gentle warmth that wrapped itself around her muscles like soft tufts of wool, the wine releasing the sunshine its grapes had taken in on the vine.

Kyra shouldered the burden of keeping the conversation going, sticking to lighter subjects, asking Kassandra the occasional question and giving her the space to interject if she wanted, and Kassandra found her words growing from a trickle into a free-flowing stream, as she told Kyra about her years in Kephallonia, about Markos and his constant scheming, and how between the two of them they'd raised a four year old named Phoibe.

"And where is this Phoibe now?" Kyra asked.

"Athens. It's safer there. And I'm not the best influence, anyway." Kassandra remembered Phoibe frozen in place, her eyes wide, mouth open, and the sound of the Monger's blood dripping onto marble.

"Safe enough with the way this war is going, but your influence is something you'll have to learn to live with. There are probably thousands of children out there who want to be the Eagle Bearer."

"What about all the children who want to be Kyra, leader of the rebels on Mykonos?"

She laughed. "All none of them?"

"There's an entire camp full of orphans who'd say otherwise."

The sun was low enough on the horizon now that Kyra's flush shaded her cheeks a darker bronze.

"Do you know of a youth there named Melitta?" Kassandra asked, and then she told Kyra of Melitta's efforts to organize the camp, and how the girl had tried to bargain joining the rebels into the price of Thaletas's helm.

"So you think I should send for her?"

"I think she could prove useful to you after Podarkes is gone. You'll need to assemble a staff if you're going to run this island."

Kyra's brows knit in confusion. "Me? Run this island?"

"Don't tell me you haven't considered it."

"The Archon of Mykonos is supposed to be elected by the people."

"And who, exactly, do you think they're going to vote for after you get rid of Podarkes?"

Kyra leaned over and took the cup from Kassandra's hand. "I think you've had too much to drink if you think they'll elect me Archon."

Helios had begun his final headlong dive into the waves, and he'd lit the world with molten gold in his last burst of glory. But for all the golden strands of light now twined in Kyra's hair, the color was ephemeral, and fading quickly. Kyra was moonlight, silver and shadows, and her time was coming fast.

"I was looking forward to being alone with you, but what I should have been looking forward to was having all this time," Kyra said quietly once the sun had disappeared into Tethys's embrace. "Nowhere to be. Nobody to watch out for."

"Thanks to this truce."

"I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that." She drank and held out the cup until Kassandra accepted it. "Thinking I'm putting pleasure before duty? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. When I'm with you, I think of things other than vengeance."

Kassandra would be a hypocrite if she judged Kyra for that. "No, but I don't have to tell you he's buying time for something he'll spring on us later."

"Maybe I'm buying time too, hmm?" Kyra mused. She glanced down, running her fingers over the patterned weave of the blanket. "Maybe I knew you weren't going to sit around waiting for me to make a decision." She smoothed out a wrinkle in the fabric. "But the reason I agreed to that truce was knowing it would give me time to move families to safer places. Just in case you and I don't succeed."

Kassandra remembered Praxos saying he had business in the city. "Praxos. He has family here, doesn't he."

Kyra nodded. "His brother's family lives in Mykonos City. Several of the other fighters too, and I've no doubts Podarkes will go after them if given the opportunity."

"The Adrestia's at your service."

"I don't think we can afford you."

"I need drachmae, yes, but I prefer to get it from those rich enough not to miss it. Send everyone to the Spartan camp, and I'll talk to Barnabas."

Kyra gave a nod of gratitude, but something had shifted in her eyes. "How much drachmae are you after, anyway?"

"Do you know the name Xenia of Keos?"

"The Pirate Queen?"

"The very same. She wants fifteen thousand drachmae before she'll give me the information I want."

Kyra blinked. "What information could be worth that much? A lost treasure? The keys to a kingdom?"

"She knows where my mother is."

It took Kyra a few moments to absorb that revelation. "Your mother? And she wants that much for it?" Her voice rose with righteous anger. "You couldn't just beat it out of her?"

Kassandra stifled a smile at the sight of Kyra's anger on her behalf. "Xenia isn't one who would break under that sort of persuasion. The only thing that motivates her is treasure and drachmae."

"You're searching for your mother." Kyra looked at Kassandra like she was watching the broken pieces of a pot reassemble itself. "How is it this came to pass?"

"It's a long story."

"We have time."

A chill ran through Kassandra then, the muscles in her back tensing in its wake. "Let's build a fire first, while we still have light," she said. She would need the warmth to tell a cold story, and after they'd gathered dry wood, and after she'd cut a pile of wood shavings to lay under the kindling, and after she'd struck her flint to set it all alight, she sank heavily onto the blanket next to Kyra, lifted the cup, and drank deep. Only after all that did she begin to speak.

"When I was seven years old, my father threw me from Mount Taygetos and left me to die."

Kyra sat up with a start. "What?"

She told Kyra about the night she'd answered a knock on her family's door to find the Elder priest and a dozen elite soldiers on the doorstep. She told Kyra how she and her mother, father, and baby brother were forced to walk the path up Mount Taygetos to the cliff where Sparta's justice was carried out. She told Kyra about the death sentence that was passed down on her brother, with no evidence, no chance to argue against it, just the Oracle's word become law.

Her voice was harsh and relentless. "The Elder priest tore Alexios from my mother's arms. 'To prevent Sparta's fall, the child must fall first!' he said. And I heard my mother pleading, 'He'll do us no harm, he'll help us.' And the Elder held Alexios out over the edge, and I just... stomped as hard as I could on the foot of the soldier who held me, and I broke from his grasp and ran to the Elder, and in trying to grab Alexios I slammed into the Elder hard enough that _both_ of them went over the edge."

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Did I push the Elder, or did I push them both? All I'll ever know for sure is that I failed to save my brother.

"Then the remaining priests called me a murderer, and they were right: the Elder priest was the first man I ever killed. They called for my head. Told my father his blood was tainted until he brought me to justice." She took a breath, then another. "My father once called me the light, the pride of our family. But it turned out he loved duty more than anything else, and he grabbed me and held me out over the chasm. I stared into his eyes and watched that light go out, and then he threw me off the cliff."

She turned to Kyra then, and asked, "Have you ever fallen from a height?"

"From trees and rooftops. Nothing serious."

"Drops like those are over in an instant. But when you fall from a great height, everything slows down. You have time to think, time to feel." The memory she'd been observing from a distance like a spectator at a play suddenly closed in around her. "That's what I remember of it: terror." Muscles frozen, breath locked within her ribs, the sound of the wind whipping past her ears. Everything sharp and clear.

Kyra reached for Kassandra's hand, her face asking permission, and Kassandra nodded, stiffly, and realized she'd gone rigid, her muscles and breath reliving the memory. She felt her hand being pulled into Kyra's lap and cradled in warm fingers. It thawed the frozen muscles in her chest, and her ribcage opened, and she exhaled, then inhaled, slowly and carefully, and she found she could speak again.

"I knew I was going to die, but I didn't know _when_. And I had a lot of time to think about that." She smiled, grimly. "And when I finally landed, everything went black, like someone had blown out the only torch in a cave."

"But you didn't die."

"I didn't die," she said. "Many people meet their end at the foot of that cliff. The weak. The unfit. The criminal. I always thought I survived out of dumb luck: I landed in a pile of the dead." The putrid smell of death sprang through her nose and landed in her mouth, the memory somehow as vivid as the real thing.

"They risk angering the gods, leaving the dead that way."

Kassandra swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and concentrated hard on the points where Kyra's skin touched hers. Warmth on the back of her hand, warmth on the pad of her thumb. She was here now, with Kyra, and not at the foot of a cliff surrounded by cold stone. "Spartans don't consider those thrown from Taygetos to be human."

"How convenient. But if that pile didn't save you, what did?"

She drew her spear with her free hand. Held it up so the firelight cascaded across its dark, oil-slick steel. "This did. I think." She spun it in her fingers, the blade swinging around in a tight circle of orange light.

"You _think_?"

"I'm not in a hurry to jump off any temples without it, just to see what would happen." She grinned at Kyra with dark humor. "I think it protects me, somehow. And when I fled from that mountain that night, it was all I had left in the world."

"Kephallonia's not exactly close to Lakonia. How'd you end up there?"

"I made it to the sea and stole a boat. Poseidon did the rest."

"So you washed up on the shores of Kephallonia, spent twenty years there, and then what?"

"Someone offered me a contract to kill my father, so I left."

Kyra stilled, but a hard glint surfaced in her eyes. "Did you?"

Kassandra slipped her spear back in its sheath. "I found him in Megaris, had him in my hands, and it would have been so, so easy to kill him then. But I couldn't."

"What stopped you?"

"I don't know. I just couldn't do it." She watched the flames, remembering how the heat of her anger had vanished to empty frustration. "So I let him go — and then he told me he wasn't my real father." She laughed, and it came out short and bitter. Still so hard to believe even after a year of knowing. "Only my mother can tell me that truth."

"Ahh. And now we've come full circle."

Kassandra drank from the cup before setting it down on the blanket between them, the dark liquid trembling in time with the arrival of the waves. She felt Kyra's thumb begin to move across her knuckles, and she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and melt into the feeling of Kyra's skin sliding against hers.

"You've never told anyone this." A statement, not a question. Kyra could read her as easily as a scroll.

"No."

"What made you tell me?"

"Because you asked. Because you said I never gave up anything about myself willingly." And also the reason she didn't say out loud: _Because I wanted you to know._ Trusting Kyra with the story of her past had shifted something inside her, like a tilted block of marble squaring true, bringing her a feeling of ease, darkness turning light.

Kyra's smile was sly. "I find it easy to talk to you, too."

"Similar lives, similar struggles."

"What other benefits are there to having so much in common, I wonder?"

Now Kassandra understood how Kyra could read her so easily: because Kyra had lived those words and found them already familiar. She turned her hand so her fingers rested against Kyra's inner wrist. The pulse that beat there was strong — and accelerating.

Kyra glanced down at Kassandra's fingers. "You've been doing that to me all day. Quickening my heartbeat."

Kassandra's blood stirred to match. "Is that so?"

"You distract me. I could hardly focus this morning, waiting by the clearing. All I could think about was you."

"I thought you were paying attention."

"I thought _you_ were."

Apparently the entire herd of ibex could have danced in front of them this morning and they both would have missed it. Kassandra laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. They were like two lovestruck youths, too nervous to make a move.

Very well, then. Judging by the heartbeat pounding under her fingers, a nudge was all Kyra would need. "Remind me, what did you decide, again?" she asked.

Kyra's answer was a kiss, sudden and breathtaking, and it was somehow exactly what Kassandra expected and not at all what she'd thought it would be. She'd expected Kyra's want, hungry and bruising, but not her own reaction: gods, it made her ache in the endless depths of her belly, made her want to give in to Kyra's mouth and hands, and as she leaned back and let Kyra's weight push her down onto the blanket, what struck her like a thunderclap was that Kyra had taken the lead.

No woman had ever done that to her before. They'd all just assumed _she_ would — and she had, happily giving them all what they wanted.

But Kyra's wants were of a different flavor, and it felt so good to open her mouth and match the fervor of Kyra's kisses, to reach up and bury her fingers in Kyra's hair, to tilt her head back and expose her throat to Kyra's lips and tongue and teeth, to hear her own breathing go ragged.

She felt a solid thump against her chestplate and Kyra's voice in her ear: "I want you out of this. Now."

"I want you in a bed."

Kyra sat up, straddling Kassandra's hips. "The mighty Kassandra, afraid of a little bit of sand?" she teased, rocking her weight back so it landed right on Kassandra's mound.

Kassandra fought off a groan, then grabbed Kyra by her wrists and held them in place as Kyra struggled against her. "With you, it won't be a little bit of sand," she said, and without waiting for a response, she stood up from the ground, lifting Kyra along with her.

Kyra wrapped her legs around Kassandra's waist, and laughed. "Heavy things."

"You're not heavy," Kassandra said, and she proved it by carrying Kyra into the hut and to the pile of blankets Kyra had so thoughtfully prepared.

Kyra slid off her hips, then stood there, studying Kassandra in the dim firelight sneaking in through the doorway. She brushed her fingertips against the crimson linen draped over Kassandra's shoulders, and asked, "May I?"

Kassandra smiled _yes_ , and Kyra unclasped the fabric, pulled it away, and let it drop to the floor. She turned her attention to the leather ties that held the shoulder pieces and chestplate in place, her dextrous fingers quickly working them loose, and once all the bindings were free, she stripped Kassandra out of all of her armor, and her tunic, and undergarments, until Kassandra stood naked before her.

Kyra's eyes drank Kassandra in, and her lips parted as she drew in a breath, and her nostrils flared, and then she reached back and untied the cord that held her chiton in place, unwound it and stepped out of the fabric.

No poet alive could describe how Kyra looked then, for there were no words that could capture how beautiful she was in the flickering light and darkness, shadows feathering across her throat and shoulders, down her breasts and the plane of her belly and her lean flanks.

Kassandra's mouth went dry and her skin vibrated with a subterranean thrill, and when Kyra took her hand and pulled her down into the blankets, she went gladly and gratefully, delighting in the feel of skin against skin as they lay on their sides with their limbs entwined, nothing between them, nothing in the way, their bodies squaring true.

For a long time, all she knew was Kyra's mouth — _against her own, along her jaw, at her throat_ — and Kyra's hands — _brushing her shoulders, raking her back, stroking her hip_ — as slick heat grew between her thighs, Kyra making her want and want and want with every touch that avoided the one place where Kassandra burned the most.

What Kyra wanted was for Kassandra to beg. It had been a long, long time since someone had worked her over like _that_ , and she grinned at the fleeting memory.

Kyra slid away abruptly, putting distance between their bodies, denying Kassandra her hands and skin. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

After being wrapped up in Kyra, the sudden separation was shocking, and she nearly begged right then for Kyra to touch her again. But that would have ruined the fun, so she added a dash of defiance to her grin and said, "I like this game. But you're going to have to do more than that if you want me to beg."

Kyra's lips curved dangerously. "Oh, I want you to," she said, and she slid herself against Kassandra, her body fitting perfectly, her thigh slipping between Kassandra's legs to grind hard muscle against Kassandra's clit. "You'll give me that, and more." Kyra's hand stroked the back of Kassandra's neck before it pulled her down to meet a demanding mouth, and it was like opening up to a windstorm, hot breath blowing through her in great gusts, leaving her dizzy and disoriented with want.

The storm blew south to her breasts, where Kyra added teeth, first in nibbles, then in bites, but Kassandra only felt them as pressure instead of pain, and her lack of reaction made Kyra stop and look at her curiously.

"I don't feel it like you would," Kassandra said quietly. She'd been gifted resistance to all but the most excruciating pain, feeling pricks and stings in the moment, the pain delayed until after the cuts scabbed and the bruises bloomed. She wondered if she would have taken pleasure in this had she felt it.

Kyra nodded in understanding, but then she smirked and said, "I can motivate you in other ways."

She put her full weight behind the thigh she'd pressed between Kassandra's legs, and Kassandra got the hint and rolled onto her back, smiling at the sight of Kyra in full glory above her, Kyra's hair cascading in dark waves to tickle her chest and breasts, Kyra's hand moving lower...

Fingers brushed her clit, slid through folds slick with accumulated wants, all of them on full display, welling up in the juices around Kyra's fingers as she stroked and teased, and Kassandra's belly became a bowl, filling with heat, wanting more and more and more.

Kyra's tongue burned a trail down Kassandra's breasts and across the plane of her stomach while her fingers worked Kassandra's clit in deliciously maddening ways that soon had Kassandra jerking her hips in desperation.

Both of them knew there was nothing stopping Kassandra from reaching down and taking what she wanted, just as both of them knew Kassandra wouldn't do such a thing.

Kyra had captured her without bindings.

She groaned from a place deep in her belly, caught right on the edge, right where Kyra wanted her, right where Kyra stayed for what felt like hours, bringing her close then pulling away, over and over until her back arched like a tightly strung bow and her breaths turned into shuddering gasps.

"All you have to do is say it." Kyra made giving in sound so reasonable.

Kassandra's skin was aflame. Her clit, too. Kyra had done this to her. Kyra had—

"I know what you want. I'll give it to you. Just say it."

She felt hot breath so achingly close to her clit. Kyra's mouth, so, so close, and she imagined Kyra's lips, Kyra's tongue—

"Say it."

It broke her, thinking about that tongue. Wanting that mouth. Her hips tilted desperately, and she took one ragged breath and spoke all her want and longing into existence: "Kyra. Please, let me come."

Kyra didn't move.

"You wanted me to beg? I'm begging you. _Please._ "

Nothing.

"Kyra. Please. Whatever you want. I'll do it. Kyra, listen. I'll do it."

Kyra smiled — Kassandra knew she was without even seeing it, felt it in the way Kyra's tongue enveloped her, soft as silk. She'd been trapped on the brink so long that one touch was all it took for the orgasm to engulf her, a firestorm of hot, swirling pleasure, startling in its perfection. It wrung a shout from the deepest parts of her chest and clenched her fingers into fists, and it scoured her to her bones, leaving her naked and open and throbbing in Kyra's mouth.

She lay panting for a long time, speechless. Kyra stroked her thigh, her belly, working upwards until she straddled Kassandra's hips, leaning down until their breasts brushed together and Kassandra found herself in the shelter of Kyra's hair, dark strands twined with the last of the firelight. Kyra smiled, her satisfaction reflected in her eyes, and Kassandra pulled that smile down to meet her own in a kiss, and this time it was soft and gentle.

When they finally separated again, she found herself laying in a tangle of blankets, Kyra draped across her. She could taste herself on her tongue. She smiled into Kyra's hair and said, "Well, then."

Kyra laughed that rich laugh. "Yeah. You too, huh?"

She closed her eyes, enjoying how Kyra fit on top of her. "Are you cold?"

Kyra shook her head _no_ , then stretched to make herself more comfortable. Kassandra could almost hear her purr.

"But I could use more wine," Kyra said. "And we should probably light a lamp."

Kassandra didn't want either of them to move. "Let's just lay here a little while. Please?"

"I'll never tire of hearing you say that word."

She smiled and said it again, "Please." And then again, like a benediction, "Please, please, please..." and as Kyra's heartbeat surged, she felt her blood quicken in matching time, their hearts squaring true.

.oOo.

Kassandra sat on a bench next to a small table, blissfully naked, blissfully watching an equally naked Kyra lean across her while lighting an oil lamp on the wall. Kyra's breasts were perfectly positioned in front of her eyes, and her mouth watered as she imagined using her tongue to lavish them with the attention they deserved.

The lamp's wick had been trimmed to burn low, and its dim light shaded Kyra's skin the color of burnished bronze. She turned to Kassandra, and her gaze seemed to see right into Kassandra's thoughts. "I believe you said you'd do whatever I wanted."

"I did," Kassandra agreed. Then she gently pulled Kyra down to sit crosswise in her lap, and she bent her head down and kissed Kyra's neck below her ear. The taste of Kyra's skin made her greedy for more, and she trailed kisses down the graceful curve of muscle that ran from Kyra's ear to her collarbone. "And just what"— _kiss_ —"would you"— _kiss_ —"have me do?"

"I want you inside me."

She nipped the skin at the base of Kyra's throat, smiled as Kyra yelped and squirmed, slid her hand over hip and thigh until she reached dark curls, and her smile widened at what she found there: gods, Kyra was soaked already.

Kyra draped her arms over Kassandra's shoulders and watched her from behind a hooded gaze.

Kassandra brushed the heel of her palm against Kyra's clit, testing her, seeing what she would do. Kyra sighed and tilted her face to the ceiling, arching her back, offering up those perfect breasts, and Kassandra dipped her head down and feathered them with attention with the tip of her nose, then her lips, then her tongue, all while moving her palm in tiny circles over Kyra's clit.

Kyra's voice rasped in Kassandra's ears. "In me. Now."

As much as Kyra enjoyed hearing the word _please_ , she apparently wasn't one to say it herself.

Kassandra circled her fingertips just outside the place where Kyra wanted them, until Kyra's hips began to rock with need, and she grinned as Kyra greedily sucked one of her fingers in, then another. But once inside, she kept her fingers motionless, enjoying the feeling of hidden muscles flexing against them, demanding more.

"Feel this?" Kassandra asked, wiggling her fingertips. "Inside. You didn't say you wanted more."

"Fuck you."

"Oh? You must be confused. I'm not the one being fucked." She pushed her fingers deeper, until she bumped up against a most hidden place, soft and spongy, and she stroked it gently, and Kyra growled from deep, deep inside, setting off a tremor Kassandra could feel through her fingertips all the way to her elbow.

"Gods," Kyra gasped, and now she was rocking her hips hard, trying to fuck Kassandra's fingers on her own.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast." Kassandra withdrew until just her fingertips remained inside.

"No! Gods, no. Don't stop."

She eased herself back inside, back to the deep places, where the smallest motion made Kyra clamp down hard around her fingers. She could do this for an eternity, Kyra sitting in her lap, completely enthralled by every movement of her hand.

Kyra was whimpering now, her face hidden in the crook of Kassandra's neck and shoulder.

"Ever been fucked like this?"

"This. Isn't. Fucking." Clenched words through clenched teeth.

Kassandra laughed. "You really should get out more."

Kyra's head shot up, her eyes flashing with outrage, and she reached up behind Kassandra's head and grabbed a fistful of hair. "Fuck me."

"Are you giving me an order? I'm not one of your rebels."

She looked at Kassandra like she hated her.

Kassandra let the dangerous heat in her blood spill out in her voice. "You're going to sit there nice and quiet and still, because I want to take my time. And if you can't do that, well..." She started withdrawing herself again.

Kyra's _no_ was immediate, drawn out as if Kassandra was pulling the sound out of her along with her fingers. Kyra froze, obeying out of want, but her eyes blazed molten hot.

"Good girl," Kassandra murmured, and then she pushed herself back inside Kyra and began to fuck her, so slowly her arm didn't seem to be moving at all, every stroke one long breath being gathered and held and released.

Gods, Kyra was responsive. She quivered around Kassandra's fingers, in her lap, in her arms. She was panting, her face buried against Kassandra's neck, her breath blowing hot as a forge across Kassandra's chest.

Kassandra pressed her free hand into the small of Kyra's back, restricting her movement even further. "You're being so good, doing what you're told."

Kyra's skin pinked all the way to the tops of her shoulders and breasts.

"I know you'd rather be in charge. Isn't that right?"

Kyra didn't move. Didn't speak. The flush deepened.

"You think I didn't notice what you did earlier? How quick you were to get me under you? How satisfied you were when I begged?"

Kyra began trembling so hard Kassandra could have been holding an earthquake in her hands.

Kassandra stilled her fingers. "Tell me how right I am."

"Gods..."

She used her free hand to grab Kyra's chin, lifting it and forcing Kyra to meet her gaze. "Not the gods. Me."

Molten eyes. More panting. Kyra was tense around Kassandra's fingers, fighting so hard not to rock her own hips, fighting so hard to be good, afraid of what Kassandra would do if she wasn't. "You're right," she said through clenched teeth.

"Surely you can do better than that."

She released Kyra's chin and gave Kyra's clit the smallest taste of her thumb, and Kyra gasped and gave in. "Yes! You're right — I like being in charge." Then Kassandra fucked her hard, fucked the words right out of her. "I wanted you. Wanted to break you. Wanted someone so powerful to beg for _me_. Gods. Kassandra. Please."

There. The word she'd been waiting for: _please_.

She pulled Kyra close, their breasts fitting together, so much of their skin in common that Kassandra could feel Kyra's heart thudding and thudding.

Kassandra took Kyra to the edge, and she was so beautiful there, a view to rival that of any summit: so beautiful as she breathed, in great huffs of _yes_ and _want_ ; so beautiful as she writhed, mewling with hunger, slick thighs sliding over Kassandra's lap. And when Kassandra had devoured her fill of it, she took Kyra over the edge, and they both flew and flew, unafraid of falling because Kassandra knew they'd never die this way.

It took Kyra longer to come back to earth, but eventually she sagged against Kassandra's chest, voice reduced to a whimper, utterly spent, and Kassandra lifted her up, carried her to the pile of blankets, and held her in her arms.

Kyra tried to speak. "You..."

"Shh. Rest." Kyra's breath had steadied but her heart was still racing. Kassandra grabbed one of the blankets and pulled it over them both.

They dozed together for a long time, Kassandra luxuriating in the feeling of long, fine muscle matched against hers. A perfect fit. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of sleepy, satisfied woman.

Eventually, Kyra stirred. Her gaze was hazy, as if shrouded with disbelief. "I've been with men and women, but you... No one's ever done anything like that to me."

"You too, huh?"

Kyra laughed and sat up, and her eyes sharpened and focused as the shrouds fell away. She studied Kassandra intently for several moments, then reached for the tie at the end of Kassandra's braid, her eyebrow raised in question.

Kassandra nodded, and Kyra pulled the tie free, then began working the braid loose with her fingers until Kassandra's hair flowed freely about her shoulders.

"You look..."

Kassandra waited.

Was that a hint of shyness in Kyra's smile? "I have to steal someone else's words to describe you. 'It's not easy for us to equal goddesses in lovely form.' But _you_ do."

She pulled Kyra down on top of her and kissed her. "Honeyvoiced, they should call you."

They kissed again, and oh gods, was it ever sweet. It made her hunger grow and grow and grow.

Insatiable.

They made love again and again, but it was gentle and slow in all the ways they hadn't been until now. No games, just an equal balance of give and take between them, offering their desires up for Eros to witness, blessed by the luxury of time.

And much later, Kyra lay with her head pillowed on Kassandra's breast, tracing the lines of muscle across her stomach, already halfway to sleep, when she said, "That was..."

"What?"

"A perfect day." She turned her head and kissed the skin she found there.

Kassandra stroked Kyra's cheek. "Yes, it was."

Kyra's eyes closed, and her breathing deepened, and her heartbeat was slow and steady and strong, and when Kassandra finally drifted away to sleep, she did so by taking the sound of Kyra's heartbeat with her.

**Author's Note:**

> The words that Kyra steals near the end of this story are Sappho's, from Fragment 96, translated by Anne Carson.


End file.
